


Burn

by BastardSonOfDay (Diana_Raven)



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Abuse warning, Found Family, Gen, Politics Suck, Post-ACOWAR, confronting an abuser, i love when he and the inner circle are nice to each other, lucien being part of the Family, poor tarquin, rape mention, technically i dont ship elucien but whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 15:39:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12510632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diana_Raven/pseuds/BastardSonOfDay
Summary: For Starfall after the war Rhysand and the Inner Circle invite the other High Lords (&co) as a friendly gesture.  Things don't exactly stay friendly.





	Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Abuse mention, Coercive Rape mention. I.. think that's it?
> 
>  
> 
> uhhhhhh basically Lucien like not realizing the Inner Circle see him as part of the club and him being confused when they want to help him because my boy has no idea what a healthy relationship is
> 
> This is my first fanfic I'm posting on ao3/ffn (because I have one of those) in this fandom and because I'm new (Hiya everyone!) and i foresee a long love affair with writing lucien angst/hurt/comfort in my future so... i made a psued for it. And... yeah. I might import another drabble I wrote about lucien having a therapy dog from my tumblr (cuz i also have one of those) so like ye
> 
> so i had a vision of lucien walking into the court... ballroom/dining room? with this outfit (also yeah, in this the crack!hc that rhysand makes the clothes for feyre and everyone else in his court is a thing here so i reference it)
> 
> Anywho~ Hope you like it!
> 
> Betaed by @ilovebeingintroverted (tumblr)/WhatAreAllTheseTears (ffn)

“This is impossible!” Rhys whined as he flopped back into his chair dramatically.

“It’s not _impossible_.” Feyre argued. She rubbed her eyes wearily and looks back over the seating chart. “Okay, now let’s try this again. If Kallias and Viviane are here-”

“Then Mor has to be next to them.” Cassian said as he looked over the chart. “But if Mor’s there, then Helion has to be…” Cassian glared at the seating chart as if that would help (it didn’t).

“Hmm...” Azriel said as he took a peek at the chart.

Rhys raised an eyebrow and glared at him. “Good _hmm_ or bad _hmm_?” He asked as if he didn’t want to hear the answer.

“You forgot Tarquin.”

“No, Tarquin’s right here.” Feyre said, pointing to his place on the chart.

“No, his Ambassadors.”

It took the three other Fae a whole minute and a half before they understand what Azriel was referring to. “How could we forget!” Rhys groaned. “We were the ones who suggested he add the Ambassadors of his Lesser Fae subjects to his party so that we could formally introduce them into High Fae society!”

“I can’t believe we forgot them! Where the hell are we going to put them? We’d have to add a whole new table!” Feyre said in a similar tone to the one Rhys used.

Azriel shrugged. “Not my problem.” He said and he walked over to the couch area where Lucien sat, reading a book.

“They still at it?” Lucien asked.

Azriel nodded. “They forgot half of Tarquin’s party.” He explained.

A traitorous chuckle escaped Lucien before he could stop it. Azriel raised an eyebrow. “You think you can do better?” He asked.

Lucien rolled his eyes. He closed his book with a snap and stood up. He snapped his fingers at Azriel, beckoning him to follow him, and he walked over to the table where Cassian, Feyre, and Rhysand sat defeatedly.

Rhysand moved out of the way as Lucien bent over the table, Azriel standing behind him with crossed arms and an unimpressed look. Lucien frowned and turned to the Shadowsinger. “What do you know about her?” He asked, pointing to one of Kallias’s party.

“Sleeping with Helion’s Third. Why?”

Lucien turned to Rhysand. “What are you going for? Controlling and omniscient, or kind and welcoming?”

“Uh… kind and welcoming?”

“Huh, well that’s different. Tamlin always wanted to exert power.” Lucien mumbled. He cracked his knuckles and swept everyone off the board except Feyre and Rhysand’s nameplates. “Move.” He said to Rhysand, who stood and gave his chair to Lucien. Lucien then, over the course of fifteen minutes, replaced everyone, sometimes switching a few people after he asked Azriel for information. Finally he admired his work for a few seconds and then stood up from his chair.

Cassian bent over, scanning the board, a look of confusion marking his face. “This works!” He said surprised.

“Of course it works.” Lucien scoffed.

“How did you do that?” Feyre asked.

“I _was_ an Emissary, Feyre, it was my _job_ to know who got along and who didn’t. People didn’t call me _fox boy_ for no reason.”

“Then how come you didn’t help with my wedding planning to Tamlin?”

“First, Ianthe was there, second, you never asked. And neither did Tamlin.” Lucien stretched. “Now, if that’s all I’ll be returning to my book.”

“Um, yeah.” Rhys said, “that’s all.”

“Good.” Lucien said, and then he went back over to the couches and sat back down, letting the rest of the world fall away as he read.

* * *

“-And so,” Rhysand said grandly, “we, the Inner Circle of the Night Court, invite you, our friends and allies and peers, to Starfall Weekend. To introduce Velaris we’ll have an evening on the House of Wind grounds, then tomorrow night we’ll be inviting you into the streets of Velaris to celebrate Starfall with the masses, and afterward since you’ll need a recovery day,” there were some chuckles, “the House of Wind will gladly be your refuge. But for now, we have nice weather, incorrigible company, and a beautiful night, and so, let’s eat!”

There was a rousing round of applause from most everyone (Beron was still too conflicted to do anything politely, but that was expected). Rhysand waved a hand and servants appeared, bringing food with them.

Lucien noticed as one of Tarquin’s Ambassadors put an arm on the servant serving them… Lucien silently chided himself for forgetting something as simple as this. Lucien stood and walked over to Feyre, he leaned down to her ear. “Tarquin is about to have a problem, either you or Rhysand should go over to him and his party and tell them that they’re employees who you pay fairly, or one of you should help bring in food to show it isn’t about status.” As Lucien finished his comment Tarquin stood and shot a warning look at his ambassadors, as if to say _he_ would deal with the issue.

Feyre’s eyes widened and she stood suddenly, almost slamming into Lucien who dodged just in time. She hurried over to Tarquin to explain the situation and Rhys tried really hard not to slam his head repeatedly into the table out of embarrassment.

Lucien went back to his seat. He tried to relax but he couldn’t. Tamlin kept _looking_ at him… with this glare that made Lucien want to punch him (but then again, Lucien wanted to punch Tamlin a lot, even when he was his friend at the time and that would be considered not friendly, but more recently the urge had become stronger and without platonic obligation he had nothing but himself to stop him). He had Elain and Azriel on one side (unavoidable with the seating, plus Lucien generally didn’t care who he sat next to) and Thesan’s Peregryn guards sat on his other side and both made him slightly uncomfortable.

But other than a few snags (like the fact that Peregryns apparently didn’t eat fish which no one but Thesan knew and neglected to tell the Inner Circle) everything went well for the first hour or so.

Then things started to go wrong.

Lucien knew that adding booze and music to the mix would be bad, but Rhys had wanted to lighten things up. He’d worried that just dinner would show that he wasn’t any fun, wouldn’t work with the theme of the invitation. So, booze and music it was.

Helion was the first drunk and the first on the dance floor, to no one’s surprise. But soon he was joined by more than half of the guests, those not dancing were sitting at empty chairs, talking with friends of theirs. Lucien lounged and watched, as that _was_ what he did best. He sipped water from a champagne flute.

“Lucien! Long time, no see!” A Fae from Winter called. Lucien talked with him for a little while, watching Feyre and Rhysand giddily on the floor out of the corner of his eye. The Fae was swept away by a handsome Peregryn to dance and in his seat fell a delightfully flushed Elain.

Elain smiled at Lucien and held out a hand for his glass. Lucien gave it, and Elain drank deeply, little droplets of water dribbling from her mouth. She finished and sat the flute down, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. “Thanks.” She said through heavy breathing.

Lucien tried very hard not to stare at her. She looked… happy. She smiled at him again, flushed and sweaty from dancing and booze. Lucien felt a trickle of happiness through the bond, like a sparkle of light in a dark night. Lucien would have to thank Azriel, he made her happy when Lucien couldn’t.

“You should dance.” She said.

Lucien shrugged. “It’s okay. I like sitting here.”

“I can feel it, you know, the calm… from you...”

“This...” Lucien waved a hand across the dinner tent. He had suggested outside so that they could have a good earthy feel, plus he knew that they all loved the feel of outside, the smell of wind… Plus, it wouldn’t be a night in the Night Court if you weren’t outside to enjoy it. “This keeps me calm.”

“You like being an emissary. You like knowing people’s business.” Elain said, as if she was just figuring this out.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Lucien snorted. “I’m a fox, and what’s a fox without some playthings, huh?”

“That’s what I was going to say.” Tamlin slurred from behind him. Lucien jumped to his feet, standing between Elain and Tamlin.

Tamlin was flushed from drinking, his buttons on his top undone, his sleeves flowed as they’d been loosened. His eyes looked bloodshot and his breath stank, like it did after a hunt. Lucien took a step back, trying to be a big as possible as if the larger he thought of himself the more there would be of him between Tamlin and Elain.

He couldn’t let Tamlin corrupt her, not like he had Feyre.

“Go away.” Lucien hissed.

Tamlin took a swig from a bottle of booze he had a hand around the neck of. “First Feyre… now Elain… you have a thing for Archerons, don’t you?”

Lucien lunged and Tamlin winnowed away, to the other side of the table. The dance floor was between the oblong shape the tables made. Tamlin was now standing on the side of the tables that was the dance floor. But this meant that only a table separated Elain from the monster. So when he made the slightest move forward, a sneer on his face, Lucien winnowed straight into him, knocking him backwards. “ _You stay away from her_.” Lucien snarled.

Tamlin dropped the bottle he’d been holding when he stumbled. It made a loud _crash_ as it hit the ground, wine seeping from it. “Funny how you show allegiance, considering what a _traitor_ you are.” Tamlin growled, fingers morphing into claws. “What do I have to have to get, huh? A _vagina_?” Tamlin spit the word. “Or is it bought with-”

Lucien lunged again, dodging as Tamlin roared, swiping at his head. Lucien grabbed Tamlin by the collar. He could feel the way he burned inside, as the smoke engulfed his senses and he could taste the flames that licked his insides. “Don’t you talk about _either_ of them like that again.”

Tamlin scoffed. “Or what? You’ll snarl at me a little more?” Tamlin lunged forward again, and Lucien was done. He was angry and he was hurt and he wouldn’t let Tamlin ruin Starfall or the day before. Lucien collided with him in the air and Tamlin was the one to be pushed back. Lucien glared at him, hands curling.

Tamlin stumbled and glared back. “After _all_ I did for _you_ , this is how you treat _me_?”

“After all you did for me? _After all you did for me_?” Lucien couldn’t believe that Tamlin had the audacity to _say_ that. “What _exactly_ did you do for me, Tamlin? Are you talking about when you gave up your right for the Blood Rite? Or are you talking about when you let me be lashed, without chance of healing all to save your ass?”

People were staring at them, Lucien had a sense about it. He didn’t need to see them to know that they stared, Feyre and Rhysand and Morrigan and Cassian and...

They were all staring at them.

The fire that brimmed and shook within Lucien only rose in intensity.

Tamlin looked betrayed. “ _You_ said you didn’t mind! You-You lied to me! What else have you lied to me about? What else-?”

“Shut up!”

“Are you even mated? Or was that too a lie? You just saw a way out, a way away from your responsibilities and you just left? Let Spring die! I’ve seen the way your _mate_ is followed by that _Illyrian_.”

“What _Elain_ does with her private life is neither my business nor _yours_.” Lucien snarled. “Unlike _you_ , _I_ don’t have an abusive and obsessive need to control the people in my life.”

“ _What_ did you just _call me_?” Tamlin took a step forward, but Lucien didn’t step back.

The fire roared within him, he couldn’t back down now if he tried.

“That _bitch_ -” Tamlin flung a hand at Feyre and that was all it took. Lucien slammed into Tamlin, hands clutching at his collar. Lucien let the heat burn through him. He felt it like two burning points on his back, his hands engulfed in flames, shaped like gauntlets to pummel Tamlin with.

“ _You_ will _not_ speak like that _about_ her, _at_ her, or _to_ her. Do you understand?”

Tamlin opened his mouth to say something and Lucien let the fire burn Tamlin’s shirt. Smoke curling from his body, the smell of singed hair and skin and thread permeated his nostrils. He could taste it.

“If you _ever_ speak to Feyre or Elain like that or about them like that again, I will kill you. _Do you understand_?”

Tamlin stared at Lucien like he’d never seen him before, and in the reflection of his eyes Lucien saw the flicker of flames and the teensist amount of fear. Good, he should be afraid. But... what scared him so?

Lucien glanced to the side, catching his reflection in a brass pitcher. There on his back were two enormous wings of flame. They spread out like those of a hawk about to attack. As he breathed heaving breaths from his anger he watched as they moved with him, well that explained the burning sensation on his back. His shirt had gone up in smoke when the wings had appeared, which explained the slight cold that he felt whenever there was a breeze.

He looked back at Tamlin, whose jaw was set and whose eyes were determined not to be afraid.

“I’m more powerful than you. In a fight, I’d win.” Tamlin said stonily, with the way his Adam’s Apple bobbed nervously Lucien would have been surprised if Tamlin believed _any_ of that statement, despite that both of them knew it was true.

Lucien dropped Tamlin, who fell to the floor, still staring at Lucien, just like everyone else. Lucien looked Tamlin up and down, his eyes traveling over every crevice and bend in Tamlin’s body. He let himself calm down, he let the wings dissipate and the gauntlets blow away until they were all extinguished completely. He looked at Elain and then at Feyre, both of whom watched him with wide eyes. He looked back at Tamlin, one last, condescendingly pitiful look and then he walked out.

He looked straight and walked purposefully. He walked past the dance floor and the music which had stopped at some point. He walked past the High Lords and Ladies and their Ambassadors. He walked straight out and into the House of Wind. He didn’t stop walking until he’d entered his room, and closed the door. He took one look at the bed and then he fell against the door and sobbed.

* * *

“...Lucien?”

“How badly did I fuck up?” Lucien moaned defeatedly. As an ex-emissary he should have been hard-wired against making an unscripted scene.

Feyre sat next to him on the bed, a hand rubbing his back comfortingly. Lucien flinched, he still sometimes had a problem with people touching his back, especially the scars. Feyre, understandably, moved her hand to his head, brushing the fingers through his hair. “Not badly at all.” Feyre promised.

Lucien turned over so that he was facing her. “What happened after…?”

“Tamlin left pretty red-faced. Your exit was rather...”

“Dramatic? Uncalled for? Utterly problematic?”

“I was going to say stunning.”

“Oh.”

“Lucien… about what happened… what you said and d-”

“I really _don’t_ want to talk about this.”

“Okay. But put me on the record saying you should talk about it.”

“Noted.” Lucien grumbled.

“… Are you okay?” Feyre asked.

Lucien sighed. “I’m just tired. And I don’t want to be around Tamlin.”

“I know.”

“I’m so _tired_ of him, Feyre. I just… I don’t want him anywhere _near_ me. Or you. Or Rhysand or Elain or...”

“I know.” Feyre’s voice was a whisper.

Lucien shifted and took Feyre’s hand into his own. “I used to be his best friend, Feyre. His _best_ friend. And now I don’t want to be around him.” Feyre squeezed Lucien’s hand comfortingly. “Am I a bad person?”

“No. You’re nothing of the kind. You stood up for yourself, Elain, me, and Rhysand and the rest of the Night Court.”

Lucien said nothing.

“We will stand behind you, no matter what comes from this, we will _all_ stand behind you.”

“Why? I’m not part of the Night Court.” Lucien said, frowning.

Feyre raised an eyebrow. She squeezed his hand once more. “Are you sure about that?” She asked.

She stood, pressed a kiss to Lucien’s hair, and turned toward the door. “Sleep tight, Lucien. We’ll deal with everything tomorrow.”

“For better or for worse.” Lucien mumbled. He gave Feyre a smile, she deserved it after all she did for him.“Good night, Feyre.”

* * *

Rhysand stood when Lucien walked into the room. Cassian and Azriel were camped out on his and Feyre’s bed. Amren lounged in a chair, flipping through a book lazily. Feyre and Mor had went down to breakfast, so not to seem like the entirety of the Night Court were avoiding their guests. “Why do I need to be here?” Amren asked boredly. She licked her finger and brushed it across the next page and flipped it.

“You got my note.” Rhysand said, ignoring Amren.

Lucien looked skeptical. He was fully dressed at least, his burning-off-of-his-shirt had been slightly unprofessional and well… not something Rhysand had been particularly excited to see. Also, Nuala and Cerridwen had given him an earful about how hard it was to find the type of silk that Lucien’s shirt had been made out of, and he didn’t want to deal with that again.

“Yes. And I am confused… are we hiding from someone?” Lucien asked.

“We’re hiding from _everyone_.” Cassian explained.

“Ah.” Lucien still looked confused.

“We came up with a plan.” Rhysand explained.

“A plan.” Lucien repeated.

“Can I leave?” Amren asked.

“No. Lucien, after what you did last night we needed to come up with a plan to make it socially acceptable… sort of, kind of.”

“Okay...”

“I’m not explaining this well...”

“No. You’re not.” Azriel agreed.

“Why can’t I leave? You don’t need me here. And I’m hungry. I want breakfast.”

“We want you here, so you’re staying.” Rhysand answered.

“We want to hire you.” Azriel explained.

“What?” Lucien asked.

“Fine.” Amren sniffed. She snapped the book closed loudly, then reopening it before snapping it shut again. She continued repeating this motion, staring Rhysand down. Rhys glared at her, irritatedly.

“We want to hire you.” Azriel repeated.

“As _what_?”

“Fine, Amren! Go downstairs!”

Amren stood and tossed the book onto Rhysand and Feyre’s bed. She flashed Rhysand an innocent smile, before striding out.

“As our Burning Star of the Night Court.”

“ _As_ _what_?”

Rhysand chewed on his lip. “As our Burning Star.”

“What the fuck is a ‘Burning Star’?”

“Nothing. We just made it up.” Cassian said.

“I’m confused.”

“We need a way to explain what happened last night in a socially acceptable light.” Rhysand explained. “So we’re making up a job for you that gives you the right to threaten to kill another High Lord without consequences.”

“ _Burning Star_?” Lucien asked, horrified.

“Well… because the whole… y’know…” Cassian waved a hand vaguely at Lucien, “…fire thing.”

“You’re insane.” Lucien said. “As a non-affiliate with the Night Court what I do and say is not a responsibility of the Night Court, nor should any of you feel obligated to be responsible for me.” Rhysand looked confused. He glanced at Cassian and Azriel and then back at Lucien. “However, I would completely understand if the Night Court felt compelled to punish me for threatening and offending an associate of theirs. Now that that’s all in the open, I’m going to go to breakfast.” Lucien said. “You can decide whatever you want.”

Lucien turned to walk out and Rhysand called out, stopping him dead in his tracks. “Lucien.”

“Yeah?”

“Why the wings?”

Lucien debated lying, but he didn’t know if he could. “I don’t know.” He answered.

* * *

“Lucien!” Rhysand called.

Lucien rolled his eyes. “What?” He asked.

“Why are you pushing us away?” Rhysand asked.

“I’m not _pushing_ you away.” Lucien said. “I’m protecting you, and this Court by non-affiliating.”

“But what if we want you to affiliate?” Lucien rolled his eyes, didn’t answer, and kept walking. “Lucien, why won’t you accept the job? Is it because _you_ don’t want to affiliate with _us_? Not the other way around?”

Lucien whipped around, glaring at Rhysand. “Stay. Out. Of my. Head.” He hissed.

Rhysand crossed his arms. “I wasn’t in it. I didn’t need to be. I know you’ve never really liked us… or me, but-”

“It has _nothing_ to do with you _or_ our history.”

“Then _why_? How did we offend you so badly that you won’t let us protect you?”

“Why do you have the _constant need_ to _dominate_ everything around you, Rhysand? Why must you stamp your stupid little-?”

“Dominate? What in Cauldron’s name do you mean?”

“That-that title! That stupid-!”

“This is about the title? So we won’t call you the ‘Burning Star’! We’ll find something else, it was just a suggestion-”

“Not-that. Though it is a stupid name. I’m talking about the… other part.”

“What? The ‘of the Night Court’ part?”

“I can’t-I can’t belong to another Court, Rhys. Not to another High Lord or Lady, for that matter. Not again. Not ever again.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t know, and if that’s your decision then fine. But, Lucien, unlike the other Courts you’ve been in, I don’t ask my Inner Circle to belong to me. I ask them to belong to our people, to keep them safe.”

“Then you’re a far better man than anyone would have thought, Rhysand.” Lucien said softly.

“Please Lucien, don’t leave us. Let us help you. You’re part of the family now. Don’t belong to me, belong to the people.”

“What could I possibly do for them? I’m-I’m useless here. You literally made up a job for me.”

“And a mighty fine one it is at that, Az and Cass worked really hard on it.” Lucien rolled his eyes again. “Just humor me, okay?”

“Fine. What would be my duties?”

“You’d be our… emissary or ambassador of a sort. Also a sort of warrior.”

“I’m confused.”

“So are we… this… we made this up, like I said, it must fit your exact qualifications. So you’ll be a… protector of sorts. You keep our people safe by learning about others in other Courts, however because of the… warrior aspect-”

“Which explains my attacking of Tamlin?” Lucien asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Exactly. But you’re a little… inadequate in that area. No offense.”

“None taken.” Lucien said, a little coldly.

“So, Azriel and Cassian have volunteered to help you… become adequate.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. If you accept this job, you will be required to train with both of them.”

“To uphold this… image?”

“Exactly. You’re a fox, Lucien, you know how this game works.”

“I’ll think about it.” Lucien said.

Rhysand nodded. “Don’t think too long.”

* * *

Lucien stared at the uniform. He was insane for doing this. Insane. And the uniform… the uniform didn’t really help. Lucien threw the uniform over his shoulder and stalked over to Rhysand’s room. He rapped on the door and waited a whole five seconds before rapping on the door again. Lucien was about to raise his hand again when Rhysand’s head stuck out of the door.

“Am I… interrupting something?”

“Yeah. My pre-Starfall nap. Why?” Rhysand asked. His eyelids were droopy and his hair was messy.

Lucien shoved his new uniform at Rhysand. “Why _this_?”

“You don’t like it?” Rhysand looked tired, yet offended.

“What, did you make it yourself?” Rhysand flushed and Lucien raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on it. “It’s just… it’s a little...”

“Gaudy? Sparkly?”

“Yeah. Not exactly my style.”

“It’s just an official uniform, not something you have to wear every day. Only for like… holidays or whatever.”

“Just like what you wear?”

“And Cass, and Amren, and-”

“Azriel, yeah. I get it.”

“If it’s really a problem then I’ll try and alter it...”

“It’s okay.” Lucien said with a sigh. “I’m just… nervous.”

“You should be before a big show.” Lucien rolled his eyes. “Play the game, Fox Boy, play the game.”

“See you tonight, Rhys.”

“See you tonight.”

* * *

Rhysand took a deep breath and felt an encouraging hum from the bond. He gave Feyre a grateful smile. Rhysand took a step forward and the guests quieted. “In light of last night’s… theatrics,” Tamlin shifted uncomfortably in his chair, “we of the Night Court believe that it is only appropriate to explain this by revealing yet another secret of ours. So tonight, we introduce formally, for the first time, Lucien Vanserra, the Burning Star of the Night Court.”

Mor opened the doors to the dining room on cue, and in walked Lucien, head held high. He strode into the room, the High Lords and Ladies watching as he walked. He reached where Feyre and Rhysand sat, gave them a short nod.

His uniform, Night Court style with a dark fabric that had small stones giving light, like stars in the night. Then on his shirt, a star of flames which burned like the wings that had blazed on his back.

Lucien joined Cassian and Azriel, watching with a cool gaze as Tamlin sneered at him. However, the expression did nothing to affect Lucien. Rhysand held back a small smirk. Lucien stood tall and proud, fiery and shining, like the star he represented.

**Author's Note:**

> (p.s. did you get the wings of flame were a metaphor for him finally accepting being part of the Inner Circle because like az and cass and feyre and rhys all have wings... cuz that... that was the metaphor... i do that)


End file.
